Kippie's Bad Day....must be Monday!

I was awakened this morning, as usual, by Quinn running restlessly up and down the bed. This is a ritual that is repeated frequently as Pam typically gets up before me these days. As I roused from my slumber, I heard a noise that sounded something like a puke...a soft, swooshy kind of sound. I couldn't convince myself that one of my precious corgis threw up, especially since there was no throaty build-up, but I decided to get up and investigate anyway. And investigate I did. After recognizing only a small splash on the comforter, I continued my examination by placing my right sock right in a small puddle of puke on the floor. (Yes, I was sleeping with my socks on last night!) This was not a good omen for the day to come.

After breakfast, Pam and I were hanging out, watching the morning news and trying to take care of some of the minor tasks we had in line for the day. We were having a quiet morning and Kippie seemed content to stay settled rather than participate in the raucous wrestling that has come to mark the dogs' morning routine. It was a nice calm morning and then BAM! A scuffle broke out between Kippie and Quinn. Pam and I both jumped on Kippie to try and correct the situation but all we did was scare him to the point that he peed on himself. "He's gonna need a bath," Pam exclaimed as she relegated Kippie to the back yard to think about things. I'm not sure but, looking back on these events, I can't help but wonder if the poor little fellow just wasn't feeling well.

As Pam and I continued through our day, we were preparing to head to town to run some errands. As I gathered some things together (job applications don't ya know), Pam let the dogs out to do their business. Recently, we've been working with a dog whistle and giving them a treat for coming back when we call. Oonie and Kippie are mildly excited by this game but Quinn immediately starts to wait for you to blow the whistle once he's out. On this afternoon, he was hiding in the bushes waiting for the game to begin so he could instantly claim his treat. After Quinn was inside, I could hear Pam calling and whistling for the other two corgis. As Kippie finally approached the house, I could hear Pam yelling "Oh my God!" When I inquired as to the problem, Pam could only say in reply, "No, this is really bad...really, really bad." When I looked out on the back porch I could see that Kippie had found–and scented himself with–the worst, nastiest, grossest, green coyote poop you could ever imagine. He stood there with a proud and confuse look as the shit ran down his back. Pam began to think out loud about moving him in to the bathtub when I encouraged her to go for the nearby garden hose. Poor, poor Kippie. Having a spray down bath with cold, cold water. (Remember, I wore socks to bed last night.) Kippie's emotions ran the gamut from frustration to sadness and he was a pitiful sight to see sitting there shivering. The smell was awful but we got him good and soaped up, then we rinsed him off thoroughly. He felt much better when he had the chance to shake himself off and get rubbed down with a towel. He's kind of funny when he's wet because he has a way of shaking his butt out so that it puffs up first. When we finally got Kippie inside, we quickly gathered ourselves up and headed off on our errands. About half way to town, we realized we forgot the things we needed to drop off. Oh...the distractions only a corgi could bring!

When we got back to the house Kippie seemed to be in a much better mood. All three of the dogs were really glad to see us and gave us the usually enthusiastic greeting. I struggled to move past them and carry my bags into the kitchen when..."KIPPIE!" Someone had yakked in the kitchen and you-know-who got the blame. Anyway, some days it's just not your day and TODAY was just NOT KIPPIE"S DAY. Better luck tomorrow my plushy little friend.